Page 72 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“Red.”

“It didn’t.”

The answer leaves my mouth too fast.

Arizona catches it. “You did.”

I look away before she can see how close she is. “Maybe a little.”

Arizona’s eyebrows rise.

That answer should probably embarrass me more than it does. The truth is, “a little” is one hell of an understatement.

For a long time, Travis Mercer was impossible to escape.

Every rodeo eventually circled back to his accident. Every conversation about bad rides seemed to drag his name out of the dirt again.

Some nights I’d wake up convinced I’d heard the same crack of bone I’d heard in that arena all those years ago.

Guilt’s funny that way.

It settles in, rearranges the furniture, then starts acting like it pays rent.

Arizona’s expression softens, and I wish it hadn’t. Sympathy has always made me uncomfortable. I’d rather get punched. “Red…”

“I’m fine.”

She gives me a look over the rim of her beer.

I’ve seen that look before. Women seem born knowing exactly when a man is feeding them bullshit. I still haven’t figured out how they do it.

My current theory involves black magic.

Before she can call me on it, I push forward. “After the accident, Travis disappeared from the circuit. At least for a while.”

“Mostly,” Willy says.

I glance toward him.

He’s spinning an empty beer bottle between his hands now, his usual grin nowhere in sight.

“Mostly?” Arizona asks.

Willy shrugs. “Word gets around. Rodeo people gossip worse than church ladies with unlimited coffee. Every couple years somebody would hear he’d shown up somewhere. Usually because trouble arrived shortly afterward.”

I nod. “Underground circuits. Illegal betting. Bar fights. Assault charges. The kind of headlines that make your grandmother sigh and say she always knew you’d end up on the evening news.”

“Grandma actually says that,” Willy adds. “To be fair, she’s usually talking to me.”

“Because you’ve earned it.”

Arizona almost smiles before the concern returns. “What happened to him?”

“He kept making bad decisions until a judge got tired of watching it.”

She blinks. “He went to prison?”

“A couple years.”